Heel Turn
by Miss Earnshaw
Summary: What happens when the guy of her dreams turns into a jerk every time he steps in the arena? A Brian Kendrick/Jeff Hardy feud. Chapter 4 uploaded 26/07 - in which Brian does not have to job to Jerry Lawler.
1. Chapter 1

Don only ever called when they were going to be full to the rafters. There wasn't enough work to give her a proper job, but sometimes they needed all the help they could get. Despite having been stuck temping for five months since finishing grad school and needing every break that came her way, Cathy wished, as she weaved her way through the crowds, hands sticky from cocktail glasses filled too high, hair falling in her face every time she twisted her head, that she had just stayed home. Tonight, the hotel was not just full, but full of VIPs. Full of egos. Full of people assuming that she had nothing to do but fetch them, personally, drinks and snacks all night long. Earlier on, she had tried to reason with one executive, who had been already several glasses of champagne out of sobriety, that if they were going to bring their whole show to the one hotel he couldn't possibly expect her undivided attention. All he had slurred in response was "Well, that's cost you your tip," after which she hadn't bothered.

Cathy dropped the tray onto the bar and slumped forward, rising again quickly when she realised the surface was wet with spilt beer. It was barely midnight and already she felt like she'd been there a full shift. Leaning heavily on a bar stool, she took the weight off her feet for one glorious moment before one of the barmen pushed another tray of drinks towards her and pointed to a table out on the terrace, just beyond the French windows. She sighed, brushed the hair out of her eyes for the twentieth time that night, lifted the tray and made her way through the throng again.

At least, she thought, as she moved cautiously across the room, it wasn't just some AGM or a no-name rock band out to cause trouble. It was the WWE circus that had come to town and there were more stars drinking in the bar than you could shake a pointy stick at. She even recognised some of them, having spent too many Friday and Monday nights at home in front of the TV with her brothers, unable to scrape together enough spare cash even for a coffee in town. There was Triple H, sharing some anecdote with Shawn Michaels while Stephanie and Rebecca drank Manhattans and swapped gossip. Jerry Lawler and JR seemed to have attracted quite a circle of interchangeable blonde Divas around them and an even larger selection of beer and champagne bottles. In the corner, Randy Orton seemed to have dozed off over his Corona. And there were dozens more. Once you added in all the technicians and personal trainers and doctors and referees and various suits, she could see why they needed all hands on deck. But still, it was wearing. She put the drinks down in front of Batista and Rey Misterio, who looked almost comically mismatched sitting side by side, and headed for the balustrade to sit down, just for a moment.

That was when he caught her eye. He was sat almost on the opposite side of the veranda at a crowded table with the Hardys, Paul London, and someone whose back was facing her, but might possibly be Christian. His shaggy blond hair and pale skin looked unnaturally bright in the backlight coming from the main bar. As her gaze settled upon him, someone at the table finished a joke and his face cracked into a broad smile. Spotting a couple of empty glasses on the table, she quickly made her way over to get a surreptitious closer look.

Leaning over the table to gather up the glasses, she took him in out of the corner of her eye. He wore a white shirt with the top buttons left open and a pair of slightly faded blue jeans. There was a faint line of dark stubble around his mouth and along the line of his jaw. His slender fingers idly twirled a cocktail stick, lifted from a now empty dish of olives. She hastily stacked the glasses onto her tray, feeling herself turning red, even in the gentle night breeze. But just as she was about to turn away, almost on automatic her mouth opened and she blurted out "Would you like something else to drink?"

Matt looked round the group quickly. "More beer?" The others nodded. Then suddenly she heard his voice.

"Actually, I'm starting to feel a little woozy – think I'm not over work yet. I'll just have some water."

The end of his sentence was drowned in disbelieving jeers. Paul, who was sat closest to him, pulled him into a gentle headlock and knocked several times on his skull, after which he held up his hands and conceded defeat. Grinning, Matt turned back to Cathy. "Five beers, please." She nodded in acknowledgement and turned back towards the bar.

Once inside the French windows, Cathy paused to catch her breath. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, could almost hear it above the noise of the crowded bar. Brian Kendrick. High flier, former tag team champion, one-time streaker if she remembered it right. She'd never particularly noticed him like that before, but now he was here, in person, there was definitely something about him. However, now was not the time to stand around staring like a star-struck teenager – she was at work, and not being paid to be useless. She carefully weaved her way back to the bar, shouted the order to the nearest barman and sank down on a stool while he served it up. Something about him. Of course, there was bound to be something about a handsome man who was rich and famous, but then, half the men in the room were rich and famous. Something made him stand out and she wracked her brains trying to think what it was.

A prod in the arm brought her back to reality, and she pushed the hair out of her face, lifted the tray and made her way back across the room. They were deep in conversation when she returned to the table, the beers acknowledged by a distracted nod. She placed the last beer down in front of Brian, then discreetly reached back onto the tray and put a glass of water down beside him as well. He looked up and their eyes met. Windows to the soul, she could see in that brief instant, in that shining hazel clearness, why she'd had to look at him twice. Even at this late hour, after a long day, his eyes flickered with deep passion. He was a man who exuded purpose, a man with a plan, if you will. But no sooner had it come than the moment passed. He mouthed the words "thank you" as she blushed and hurried back to the bar.

* * *

By 4am, the bar had significantly emptied out. There were still a few hardcore drinkers, technicians mostly by the look of them, and there was still noise coming from the terrace, but the worst of it was over.

"Thanks for coming out, Cathy," Don told her as she pulled on her coat. "These guys'll be here all week, something about a scheduling snafu, I don't know – anyway, it'll probably be quieter the next few nights, but it might kick off again on Friday night, if you're around."

"Sure," Cathy replied, as she picked up her bag, "Just give me a call when you need me – not like I have any pressing engagements…" she reflected wearily.

They said goodnight and Don disappeared into the back room again. Cathy sighed and headed for the door.

"Hey, wait!"

She turned, and there was Brian hurrying across the room. His face looked somewhat flushed and there was a slight, but noticeable, unsteadiness as he moved. She'd tried to avoid the terrace since the incident earlier, if it wasn't inflating its importance a hundredfold to call it that. But each time she had been out, she couldn't stop herself from looking over at him, and she couldn't shake the feeling that, out of the corner of his eye, he'd been looking at her too.

He reached out and held her arm, leaning on it just a little heavier than she would have liked.

"Are you leaving already?" he asked, sounding almost slightly disbelieving.

"Already?" Cathy wondered if he had any idea what time it was. "It's 4am, I've been on my feet for the last six hours. I think it's time to go home and go to bed."

"Well, listen," he continued, still holding to her arm while the fingers of his other hand attempted to entwine themselves with hers, "Thanks for looking out for me earlier, that was real nice of you."

"No problem," Cathy replied, gently trying to detach his hand from her. "Hey, how's your head?"

"Better, thanks." He let go of her arm, but only to shift his hand up to her shoulder. "Are you sure you have to go?"

"Yes, I do," she said firmly, and with a little effort, wrenched his hand off her shoulder. But no sooner had she let go of his hand than he placed it right back on her shoulder and moved in a step closer. It was getting really difficult to ignore the smell of beer on his breath or the feeling that his leaning close was as much to do with being unable to stand up straight as with intimacy. He gently stroked her hair and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"I thought maybe we could… get to know each other a little better…" And with that, he kissed her softly on the cheek, while the hand that had been on her shoulder began to slide downwards.

Cathy pushed him away as roughly as she could manage, and mustering all her stores of indignation, looked him straight in the eye.

"Mr. Kendrick, you are drunk! And we have not even been properly introduced!"

It was a line intended to confuse and disorientate as much as convey meaning, and for a moment Cathy thought it had done its job. But Brian saw Paul London coming up from behind them and pulled him to a halt.

"Buddy, you need to introduce us."

A thoroughly bemused expression took over Paul's face and, in a moment of weakness, Cathy felt absolute sympathy for him and stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. With a theatrical flourish, he turned to face her.

"Miss Kaye, I would like to introduce Mr. Brian Kendrick," Turning to Brian, he proclaimed, "Brian, may I present Miss Catherine Kaye."

"Thank you," Cathy replied politely. Paul raised his invisible hat to her and then headed back out to the terrace with more than one backwards glance. As soon as he had ostensibly disappeared from view, Brian reached out to her again.

"You were saying?"

Cathy hesitated for a moment. On the one hand, how many opportunities would she ever have to get a little closer to a WWE superstar, especially one as handsome and clearly interested as Brian Kendrick? But on the other, to do so would violate a clear rule, that a person should never get involved with a guy for the first time when he's drunk. She looked into his eyes and felt that jolt of excitement again, that spark which made her want to move closer and feel all that passion directed at her. But even as she looked, common sense won out and she stepped away.

He stepped towards her and took her hand, turning his head this way and that to follow hers so that she couldn't help but look at him. And as she kept looking and as his soft blond hair passed underneath her fingertips she knew her resolve was weakening. She gently removed his hand from hers and reached into her bag, pulling out a pen and an old flyer for some high school play. Leaning on the bar, she wrote on it and then offered the page to Brian.

"Look," she conceded. "If you really want to get to know me better, then that is my number and you can call me when you are sober. And not before." she added as forcefully as she could.

He took the piece of paper and carefully pushed it deep into his pocket. Cathy swiftly made for the lobby. But she looked over her shoulder just as she reached the doorway and he was still standing there, watching her leave. Ignoring one last pang that told her she was doing the wrong thing, she slung her bag over her shoulder and headed out into the night.

* * *

It was about one o'clock in the afternoon and Cathy had just returned to her room after having a shower when her phone began to ring. Pulling her dressing gown more tightly around her, she picked up the phone and answered it.

"Hi, it's Cathy."

She almost dropped the phone when she recognised the voice at the other end.

"Hi Cathy, it's Brian Kendrick – I think we met last night."

Cathy was almost speechless. "Uh… yeah, we did. Um, hi…"

"So, listen," he continued, "I'm pretty sure I was acting, well, very forward, and I wanted to apologise if I made you feel uncomfortable."

"That's okay," Cathy said breathlessly. "I've seen worse."

"Not the point," he told her emphatically. There was a slight pause. "Have you had lunch?"

"No, not yet…"

"Well, can I buy you lunch? I don't want to leave you with the impression of me as just some sleaze who can't hold his drink."

Cathy's brain was racing to keep up with the enormity of this sudden string of events. "Sure," she replied, half dazed. "Shall I meet you in the hotel lobby in half an hour?"

"Great, I'll see you there."

And that was that. Cathy stared at her phone for a few moments, trying to convince herself that actually just happened. But it had, and she knocked herself out of her reverie and leapt for the closet, looking for the hairdryer.

* * *

Cathy arrived at the hotel a respectable two minutes late and Brian was already there waiting for her. He was simply dressed in a pair of jeans and a dark sweater, blond hair hanging loose onto the top of his broad shoulders. His eyes sparkled and his face betrayed no sign of a night spent drinking. There was only one conclusion Cathy could come to: he looked perfect.

She'd had very little time to figure out what to wear, and had opted for a pair of black linen trousers and a white blouse – enough to look classy, but not to appear overdressed. She'd had time to whip on a little mascara and eye shadow, but not time to put her hair up, so the long auburn tresses had just been brushed back out of the way.

He put forward his hand, as if to shake, but changed his mind and simply raised it in greeting.

"So," he asked after they had exchanged pleasantries. "Where do you want to eat? I think they're still serving lunch," he waved his hand in the vague direction of the hotel restaurant, "but I don't think it's very quiet in there."

"Hey, that's ok," Cathy told him. "There's a great little place just a couple of blocks over. It's not very fancy, but it's good food."

Brian smiled and her heart gave a brief flutter. "Sounds great – let's go!"

* * *

The conversation over lunch had been very formulaic – basic life stories, families, schools, and 'one time I was…', although inevitably, Brian's stories were far more interesting than hers in the last category, seeing as how he could include 'one time at a show in Rome' and 'one time after a ladder match', instead of just 'one time when we were drinking liquor behind the hardware store'. He was quite loquacious, and Cathy sat there, sipping her coffee and listening to him talk. He was very easy to listen to, clearly very intelligent and his eyes were always smiling, as if something funny was happening just out of view.

"…but then later on, when he came to, it was all cool, so I guess mild concussion sometimes works out." he finished.

"But do you never think when you go out to the ring, all it takes is one bad smack to the head and the rest of your life would just be wasted?"

"Maybe." The eternal smile of his eyes was fixed firmly upon her. "But then, it's no different every time you step out on the road. You can't lock yourself in a darkened room all your life. And even then, most accidents happen in the home."

"So, some kind of vault in the bowels of the earth might be in order?" she joked, unable to return to any kind of serious point while he smiled like that.

"Risk of being buried alive," he countered.

"Hollowed-out mountain hideaway?"

"Avalanches."

"Ice palace in the arctic wastes?"

"Global warming. And polar bears," he added as an afterthought.

Cathy held his faux-serious gaze for several moments, debating whether to hit him or crack up. A broad grin spread across his face and they both burst out laughing.

* * *

It was after four o'clock by the time Cathy and Brian found themselves wandering back to the hotel. It had been something of a surprise how fast the time seemed to have gone. Cathy felt so at ease with him, it was stunningly easy to fall into ridiculous back-and-forth banter about the silliest of subjects and not feel as if he was judging her. As they walked back, he smiled as she talked about the last time the hotel had been so full and the Jello Incident. It was kind of a silly story to tell, Cathy reflected as the words poured out of her mouth, but he was listening, really listening, and smiling, and that was what was really important.

They stopped outside the hotel entrance. The sun was already beginning to skim the tops of the trees surrounding the hotel's perimeter and around them several other guests were leaving the newly formed shadows and heading indoors. Again, Brian seemed to reach out for her hand before thinking better of it.

"Thanks for coming out – I had a great time with you," he told her, leaning back slightly on the balustrade. Cathy blushed slightly and her fingers started subconsciously playing with her hair.

"So did I," she admitted. "I was a little nervous about coming out today, but we've done a lot better than last night."

There was a brief smiling silence.

"Well, maybe we could do this again tomorrow?" Brian suggested slowly. "There must be other great places to eat lunch round here?"

Cathy felt a surge of relief flow through her that she had barely realised had been built up.

"There's always a great lunch if you know where to look," she agreed quickly.

"Unless you're five thousand feet up a mountain," he replied, the smile in his eyes looking positively wicked.

"A thousand generations of Nepalese goat herders might beg to differ," Cathy told him.

Their eyes met in an unspoken agreement to stop.

"So, meet back here tomorrow lunchtime?" he asked, pulling himself up straight again. Cathy nodded, almost inaudibly saying "OK." He reached out his hand again and this time he did take hers and squeezed it gently, before turning and climbing the stairs to the lobby. At the top, he turned and smiled at her before disappearing into the hotel. And Cathy floated home.

* * *

Cathy and Brian spent a lot of Wednesday together, and Thursday. After lunch, they went walking and talking, stopping wherever it took their fancy, and always close to the next laugh. A few people stopped them to ask Brian for an autograph or a photo, but Cathy was struck by how little Brian seemed to be the huge star that he was. A small part of her brain would insist on seeing this all as strange and unreal, but it really felt nothing of the sort. She simply could not associate Brian Kendrick the WWE superstar with Brian Kendrick who was telling her jokes, capering around and holding her hand. It was ridiculous to think they could really be the same person.

But then on Thursday evening, as they sat in a bar, having a few drinks and trying to talk over the generic rock being piped in over the speaker system, that began to change.

They had just settled down with what was, officially, the last round before heading home, Brian twisting the neck of the beer bottle between his fingers and Cathy sliding her fingers along the thin stem of her margarita glass, when Brian suddenly looked up, putting his bottle down with a resounding thump.

"So, we have the live show to do tomorrow," he started. "I don't have much to do, just one short match, but I'm supposed to be around all day anyway." He paused, looking at her soft brown eyes, gentle smile and long auburn hair framing her face. "I'd still like to see you," he admitted. "Would you like to hang out backstage during the show and come out with us after?"

He couldn't possibly be serious. "Are you sure I wouldn't get in the way of everything?"

"Of course not!" But that was a serious look in his eyes. "It's not a busy night for me, and I think I'm on early. After that we can just find a quiet spot and enjoy the rest of the show."

This might have fazed Cathy, but it couldn't possibly be happening. She lifted her glass, gently swirled the contents and took a sip, holding Brian's gaze all the while.

"Sure."

* * *

Arriving at the arena the next evening and approaching the back door, it began to sink into Cathy's mind what she'd been doing all week. Her fingers quivered a little as she dialled Brian's number on her phone and she shifted her weight nervously from foot to foot as she waited for him to arrive. It was already dark outside and there was a slight chill in the air from the cloudless sky. She'd smartened herself up a bit so as not to embarrass Brian in front of his friends and co-workers. She'd pulled on a pair of smart dark trousers, lifted by a pair of black boots with a medium heel, and a v-necked black and white top with a light jacket – just enough to look good without looking like she was taking it all too seriously. Sure, it was making her jittery, but there was no point in trying to glitz up and pretend she was really on their level. It was best just to be comfortable and enjoy her last night with Brian and hope she didn't offend too many people.

The door opened and the Brian Kendrick she'd seen on the television was standing there. He had already changed into his ring gear, although he wore a black WWE t-shirt under his white jacket, bedazzled on one side and what looked like leopard print on the other. The t-shirt partially covered his black and red trunks and his thighs looked particularly white between those and his high black boots. He slid his arm round her waist and hurried her inside and closed the door firmly behind her.

"Looks like a pretty big crowd out front," she remarked as they made their way down the corridor. "Might've thought they'd have trouble pulling in the crowds for two events in one week."

"Some people make a lot of effort to see their favourite wrestlers," he remarked idly. "Plus, it's not like we're here that often, and there is something special about the live show."

Cathy nodded, in a kind of wonderment, as they wandered into a busier part of the backstage area. All around them, people were hurrying along carrying cables, cameras, clipboards, coffee in giant cardboard cups and even, in one case, a huge inflatable palm tree. Eventually, Brian was able to lead her through what seemed to be the main hive of activity, past a buffet table where they liberated some fruit and a handful of cocktail sausages, and onto a carelessly stuffed sofa between some piles of the omnipresent brown boxes.

"So that's backstage," Brian told her, taking a large bite out of an apple. "If you're into that sort of thing. It all works somehow."

"So many people," Cathy remarked, nibbling at one of the sausages. "You wouldn't think it could take so many people just for some guys to go into a ring and fight each other."

Brian grinned. "But of course it's not just about the fight, is it? It's about making a show." He tossed the half-eaten apple in the air. "Bread and circuses, right? They made the bread, now we gotta give them the circus."

Cathy kept turning her head, taking in her surroundings. Not that there was anything particularly special or exciting about them of themselves, but they were given significance because of what was happening within them. The butterflies in her stomach grew as it became harder and harder to ignore that she was backstage at a WWE show, sitting on a sofa, eating from the show's buffet with Brian Kendrick. Whose voice broke through the frantic reveries in her mind.

"Are you ok?" he asked, reaching out and gently resting his hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry," she said, letting her hand slide gently over his, "It just seems so weird."

Brian stood up suddenly. "You think this is weird?" he asked her, sounding offended. "Sitting here, eating sausages, that's weird?" He pulled her up by her hand. "We can do way better than that for weird. Come on!" With that, he turned and hurried down a small corridor and opened a heavy fire door. Seeing her still standing there, he motioned for her to follow him. Bemused, Cathy swallowed the last of the cocktail sausages and went after him.

* * *

"Now," Brian asked softly. "Isn't that much weirder?"

Cathy held tightly to the handrails on the gantry. The arena was at least seventy or eighty feet below them and the floor of the gantry was meshed so if she looked at her feet she could see how far she was from solid ground. Normally she didn't get squeamish with heights, but Brian was right – this was a lot weirder.

The arena was spread out in front of them. All around the edge of the building, fans were still pouring in, laden down with home-made signs and drinks and as much merchandise as they could carry. From all around, bright flashes sparkled in the crowd as the excited throng sought to capture the occasion on camera. Directly below them, the technicians were checking that all the pyro was set up correctly. Various cameramen were making their way to ringside, and there, in the centre of it all, was the ring, with the WWE and Smackdown logos prominently splashed on each side. The bright white canvas drew the eye, as if it could already see the power and the passion that would be poured into it later that night. The air was thick with anticipation. For all that the roar of the crowd was undefined and chaotic, their focus was unmistakeable. Drawn in by the wonder of it all, Cathy barely noticed the arm gently wrapping itself around her waist.

"Pretty cool, huh?" he whispered softly. Cathy slowly turned her head and found herself looking into those big hazel eyes. The sounds of the arena were drowned out by the rapid thumping of her heart, and as he gently cupped her face in his hand, the ring and the drop faded into irrelevance to be replaced only by his eyes and a growing feeling of longing.

"Hey! What are you doing up here?"

The harsh voice shattered the moment into thousands of irretrievable pieces. Brian quickly stepped forward to identify himself and the technician, slightly mollified, replied,

"Well, you'd better get down – the first match'll be starting in a minute, and you oughta be downstairs."

Brian nodded an acknowledgement and, taking Cathy's hand, moved past the technician and back towards the ground again.

* * *

As they were walking back towards the main backstage area, they met Paul in the corridor.

"Hey buddy," Paul greeted him. "Where've you been?"

"Oh, nowhere special," Brian replied coyly. Paul's eyes darted disbelievingly between his friend and Cathy.

"If you say so." The raised eyebrow was worth a thousand words. "Hey, that reminds me," he added suddenly. "Your man Zeke's been looking for you. The show's starting in a minute."

He nodded. "Can't keep the big guy waiting, I guess. Thanks man." He took Cathy's hand and set off down the corridor.

"Brian!" He stopped and looked back at Paul. "You guys coming out after the show? Matt says he's found a bar downtown that'll let us all hang out, get us out of the hotel."

His eyes quickly flicked to Cathy and his mind to the moment that had almost been. "Yeah, we'll be there, man. Catch you later, ok?" With that, he turned and led Cathy quickly towards where Ezekiel would be waiting.

* * *

Ezekiel Jackson loomed. There was no other word for it. From one end of the passageway, he just looked big – but up close, to someone small like Cathy, he seemed not so much a person as a geographical feature. He was a clear half foot taller and wider even than Brian, who was a head taller than her to start off with. Brian seemed hardly to notice as he shrugged off his jacket, which the big man caught almost without moving, and pulled off his t-shirt. He passed it back to Cathy and then slid his arms back into the warm white jacket.

"Cathy and I were just hanging out," he told Ezekiel as he limbered up. "Is it almost time?"

"Next match." Even as he said this, two wrestlers came in from the arena looking somewhat battered. Brian shook himself down and turned to Cathy.

"There's a screen over there you can watch the match on," he told her, pointing over to a wall monitor.

"Who're you fighting?" she asked, winding the t-shirt round her hands. Brian shrugged his shoulders. "Some local indy kid. Shouldn't take long. Then we can go and find someplace more comfortable." Ezekiel motioned for him to come over to the entrance, and he quickly put one arm round her and gave her a short squeeze.

"Wait here, I'll be right back." His eyes gleamed with purpose. One eye shut briefly in a wicked wink, and then he turned and disappeared towards the ring with Ezekiel.

* * *

True to his word, Brian did not take long. He had dispatched the indy kid within ten minutes, was showered and changed within another twenty, and within another five had found them a quiet spot from which to watch the rest of the show. After that, the night blended into one long string of alcohol, anecdotes and attempted dancing. Everyone was there, but somehow Brian was never that far from Cathy's side – talking, laughing, making sure her glass was always full. Four o'clock the next morning found Brian and Cathy, arm in arm, attempting to negotiate their way back to the hotel. As they crossed the bridge and the hotel began to rise up a few short blocks down the street, Cathy thought about the amazing time she'd had with Brian over the last few days. It brought a smile to her face – apart from tonight, they hadn't done anything exotic or exciting, but they didn't have to, because there was no such thing as a dull moment when Brian was around.

"It's been an interesting few days," she opined to the air. Brian said nothing, but in a surprisingly fluid movement, lifted her off her feet, spun her round full circle and then smoothly put her back down again. For a moment, Cathy found herself staring into Brian's sparkling eyes once more, drinking in their passion, feeling the rest of the world disappear for that one brief moment. And then it was past and the world was back again. "But I guess tomorrow is another day." She'd been trying not to think of it, but there wasn't much time left to pretend it wasn't going to happen. The hotel was drawing nearer, there they would say goodbye and then it would recede into the half-remembered past, like a dream that seems so real, but never actually happened.

"Come with me."

The words came so suddenly, Cathy was only half-sure they'd been said. She turned, and Brian had stopped, was looking at her with unnatural focus, her hand in his, blond hair swept back from his face, lit by a solitary street light some fifteen yards distant. As she stared, she heard the words again:

"Come with me."

No doubt about it – the words had come from his mouth.

"What do you mean?" she asked, as his hand began to snake gently up her arm. "Come where?"

"Anywhere the wind blows," he smiled. "We've had some fun, and there's nothing keeping you here – why not let the good times keep rolling?" His hand reached out and softly brushed her cheek. "You do like being with me, don't you?"

She couldn't trust herself to meet his eyes, but there was nowhere else to look but into their bright, almost hypnotic, gaze. "Well, yes," she admitted. "But… it has only been a few days, what if things don't work out, what if…?"

He put his finger to her lips. "Play it by ear. If it stops working, you can just go home again. And if it doesn't," He smiled and tilted her face towards him, "There's a lot of fun to be had out there."

His free hand pulled her close, and this time there was no interruption.


	2. Chapter 2

Within twelve hours, Cathy was out on the road with Brian, having packed a bag and said her farewells. The next few weeks passed in a flurry of new experiences and almost ceaseless travelling. Brian's friends got used to seeing her around backstage and helped her get into the way of things in the WWE. Brian was extraordinarily attentive, buying her new clothes everywhere they went, making sure she wanted for nothing, even affection at the end of a long day. He even began taking her to ringside with him, "for luck", as he put it, but Cathy secretly felt as if she was being put on display. Part of her felt ill at ease with being paraded backwards and forwards every week, but it was overridden by the warm delight inside that Brian wanted to show her off to the world. Maybe he encouraged her into tighter outfits and higher heels than she'd ever felt comfortable with before, but he was always there, blond hair swept back, looking achingly self-confident and desirable, and she wanted to please him.

She mulled on these thoughts as they waited backstage that night. Brian had insisted that she tried wearing a pair of stilettos to the show, and although she'd been able to adjust to the tension in her feet, she was still having trouble balancing herself on those tiny points. She lifted one foot to examine them as they were waiting to go out into the arena.

"I don't know why I let you talk me into this…" she mused out loud, twisting her foot this way and that. Brian stopped peering out towards the capacity crowd and glanced over her.

"It makes you look sexy," he told her matter-of-factly, checking out his appearance in a thin mirror strip on the wall. "And taller. Remember, you're standing next to Zeke – you don't want to be mistaken for a midget."

"I'm gonna break my ankle in these shoes!" Cathy insisted. "Or my neck."

"You'll get used to them," he assured her, his attention still half on the crowd outside. "Besides, you want to look good for me, don't you?"

Cathy thought about making a cutting reply, but just then, Brian's music started up and he swaggered out into the main arena, leaving Cathy to totter out carefully behind him with Ezekiel to those still magical words: "Being accompanied to the ring by Cathy Kaye and Ezekiel Jackson…"

The walk to the ring was still the one part of the proceedings Cathy didn't quite get. Brian sashayed his way to the ring in time with the music, happy as a clam, while she and Ezekiel followed behind, not smiling at the fans, not making eye contact, firmly focussed on the ring – by order. Of course, looking sexy was encouraged, but on this particular occasion, Cathy reckoned a sexy walk and making it down the surprisingly steep ramp in stiletto heels were probably mutually exclusive. But somehow she made it to ringside and took up her place next to the steel steps as Brian eyed Chavo Guererro, waiting in the other corner. As Ezekiel left the ring and passed Brian's jacket to her, he kept his eye firmly fixed on the large figure of the Big Show, who was glowering across the ring from the far side.

The bell rang and Brian and Chavo began circling slowly, weighing the other up, waiting to see who would reveal their hand first. Then Brian leapt forward and landed a quick volley of kicks on his opponent, knocking him to the mat with a dropkick. He pulled Chavo up, backed him into the corner and slammed him into the ring post, but it was the wrong corner and Big Show appeared at the top of the steps and Brian quickly backed off. Chavo recovered in an instant and fetched Brian a hefty blow to the ribs, knocking the wind out of him, and dropped him to the mat with another strike. He quickly went to the ropes for an aerial attack, but Ezekiel was waiting there for him and he quickly changed his mind. The back and forth continued for several minutes with neither man gaining an obvious advantage and the figures of Big Show and Ezekiel never far from their attention. Then Brian managed a strong hit to knock Chavo down and, with lightning quickness, sent him flying out of the ring and almost on to Cathy. He backed up, ready to make a flying leap after Chavo, but the arm of the Big Show wrapped itself round his foot and he fell flat on his face. In an instant, Ezekiel was there, glaring eyeball to eyeball with the other big man, while Brian protested loudly to the referee. Cathy swore loudly at Chavo as she rubbed her shoulder, which he had struck on his way out of the ring. He pulled himself to his feet and glared at her, and then advanced menacingly. Cathy backed up nervously, not watching where she was going, and half-tripped over the steel steps, lost balance on the precarious stiletto heels and turned her ankle. That was the last damn straw. Her feet hurt, her ankle was in horrible pain, it was still hours before she could go back to the hotel and change her shoes, and now, on top of that, she had to be intimidated by an inconsiderate jerk. She wrenched the hated shoe off her foot and, heel first, lashed out with it at the approaching Chavo. There was a sick crack and Chavo dropped to the floor, all but unconscious.

Cathy's head immediately turned towards the referee, horrified at her moment of anger, but he was still trying to placate Brian and had seen nothing. Brian's eyes, however, were firmly fixed on her, and as she hurriedly pulled the shoe back on, she could see a look of wicked glee spreading from them across his face. In the blink of an eye, Ezekiel was beside her, rolling Chavo back into the ring. Brian dived across to make the pin and Chavo was in no condition to kick out. Brian's music began blaring out of the sound system and the referee raised his hand in victory. After a moment, he turned and signalled to Ezekiel and Cathy, and the big man gently helped Cathy and her sore ankle into the ring. She limped into the centre of the ring and Brian gathered her up in his arms.

"Are you okay, babe?" he asked, and not even waiting for a reply and in front of the entire arena, he kissed her hard.

* * *

It took them two hours to get from their room to the hotel bar that night. Brian had carried Cathy out of the ring, barely letting her feet touch the ground the entire distance from the arena to the hotel room. After two hours with her feet definitely off the ground, and wearing a more sensible pair of shoes, Cathy felt able to go to the bar with Brian and celebrate their success at the show. Despite the long day, Brian now seemed more animated, more interested – for the first time that day, maybe the first time in several days, Cathy really felt like she had his undivided attention. So the next week, when Brian was facing Helms, and Helms happened to fall out of the ring near Cathy, with barely a moment's hesitation, she slammed her foot down on the back of his knee, and although she wasn't wearing the sharp stiletto heels it still sufficed to keep him limping for the rest of the match. And the week after that, when she was standing on the ring apron and MVP had fallen at the edge of the ring, she ground the heel of her shoe into his hand.

And so it would have gone on, week after week, were it not for something that happened a short while later. Brian was scheduled to face Evan Bourne which, in bluster and bravado, he declared would be just as easy as facing an empty ring. But before they left for the arena that afternoon, and any time he was sure they were alone, he caressed and cajoled Cathy, urging her to take "any opportunity that might arise" during the match. He'd insisted she wore the stilettos again and kept reminding her that if Bourne had a sore ankle he would be effectively grounded for the rest of the match.

"What are you so edgy about?" she asked brusquely, after he'd reminded her for at least the tenth time about Bourne's reliance on speed. "He's no bigger than you, and he's not long back from injury – you can take him."

Brian stopped pacing and caressed her hand and gently pushed her hair back from her face. "He can't beat me," he replied, confidence appearing to have returned to his voice. "But I need to know that you're on my side, that you'd do what I asked you to, if you had to." He kissed her softly, then whispered in her ear, "You do want me to win, don't you?"

"Of course," Cathy told him hesitantly, "but…"

"I knew you'd understand." He cut her off, all swagger returned. "Now come on, we don't want to be late." And with that, he dragged her off, and the lingering doubts in Cathy's mind remained on her lips, but still entirely unspoken.

* * *

The thing that struck Cathy most as Evan Bourne made his way down to the ring that night was how young he looked. He was in his mid-twenties, only a few years younger than Brian, but the clean shaven, bright-eyed eagerness with which he approached the ring, all hope and smiles, made Cathy squirm inside – he looked like just a kid. As the referee signalled for the bell, Brian turned towards her and Ezekiel.

"Remember what you have to do," he told her, stamping one foot down on the ring for extra emphasis. Cathy bit on her lip and gave a very slight nod. He turned to face the centre of the ring and immediately ate a spinning sole kick from Bourne. Brian leapt to his feet again quickly, his face twisted in a scowl, and rushed towards Bourne, who dropkicked him back onto the mat, following it quickly with an elbow drop. Cathy could see the frustration already building up behind Brian's eyes – this was a weak start to his match and he knew it. He wasn't concentrating on the match; he was just lashing out instead of picking his spots and hitting them hard. It was a prophecy fulfilled – he'd been so obsessed with the prospect of doing badly that now he'd started, he didn't seem to be able to stop. With a sense of foreboding, Cathy knew she would be obliged to keep her promise.

The moment finally came a few agonisingly endless minutes later. Brian had just about hauled himself back to parity with Bourne, but there seemed no prospect of his actually taking the upper hand. But then, in a single moment of power, Brian knocked him to the floor of the ring, in Cathy and Ezekiel's corner, with his right ankle hanging out at the edge of the apron. As he kept the referee's attention away from Bourne, she could feel Brian's eyes piercing her, asking, demanding that she take action. The rest of the arena seemed to fade away, her stomach churned and her heart beat rapidly like drum and bass, and for the sake of those powerful hazel eyes she took hold of his ankle and twisted it sharply with as much force as she could muster.

The agonised scream woke her, as if from a trance, and she dropped it like a hot coal, but the damage was already done. Bourne tried to pull himself to his feet, but the moment he shifted weight onto his right ankle he yelped at the pain and his leg collapsed beneath him. That was all the opening Brian needed. Cathy watched, almost frozen, as Brian, his confidence restored, kicked the immobilised young man round the ring before forcing him onto his feet for a Sliced Bread #2 and the inevitable three count. He leapt up to celebrate, but Cathy's eyes were fixed on the body lying helpless near the edge of the ring. His body was hunched up, his flesh palest white where his fingers were digging into it, trying to distract from the pain in his ankle. His eyes were screwed shut, but when he opened them Cathy could see the distorted grimace on his face as he tried so hard to stop the tears that were threatening to escape. She had done that. For the sake of a handsome man's ego, for his smile and his good opinion she had done that. To an eager, hard-working, dedicated kid, from a distorted sense of the duty she owed she had done that. For a man who had not deserved to win she had done that. As she watched him struggle to contain the pain, the bile rose in the back of her throat and she fled backstage.

* * *

Cathy felt a hand on her shoulder, and she raised her head from her hands to look at the figure in front of her seat. He pulled her up and his hands drifted languidly up and down her sides.

"You sure left in a hurry," he remarked, his lips softly grazing her cheek. "Don't you want to celebrate another majestic victory with me?"

He tried to kiss her, but she pushed him away. "You didn't deserve to win tonight."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, laughing it off. "Of course I deserved to win – I'm The Brian Kendrick!"

"You were being _the_ shittiest coward before that match," she retorted, the anger and disgust rising in her voice. "You were getting your ass handed to you, and you only got the win because I crippled that poor kid!"

"Oh, he's not crippled," Brian insisted, still trying to take hold of her again. "Besides, I was doing great out there." He grasped her hand and tried to look into her eyes. "Now I'm not saying that what you did didn't help, but that was your decision, not mine."

"You forced me into it," Cathy pouted, but she could see the moral high ground slipping out from underneath her, at least for tonight. She grudgingly acquiesced as Brian caressed her hair and gently pushed it out of her face.

"Babe, you don't have to do anything you don't want to," he told her, a gentle attitude returned now that the danger had passed. "And I think it's really sweet that you want to help me win. But now, let's just forget about who sent who to hospital and go have some fun, ok?" He grinned and kissed her gently on the nose. "I bet you'd like a drink." Cathy nodded gently, still not quite meeting his eyes, and allowed herself to be led off back towards the locker room.

* * *

Brian prised Cathy out of her sulk that night, but she still couldn't forget the sight of Evan Bourne laid out in the ring. Every time she saw the ring that week, she remembered. She tried to talk about it with Brian, but every time she started to mention it, he'd just change the subject. She felt a niggling suspicion that even if they did talk about it he wouldn't understand. He was a wild spirit – that was one of the things she'd liked about him that first week. His mind was wrapped up in the present and the future, and the past was irrelevant – except, of course, for the past triumphs of The Brian Kendrick.

Then the list of matches for the next Smackdown show was given out, and Brian was scheduled to fight Mr. Kennedy for the chance of a shot at the US Championship belt. Suddenly the nervous focus was back, the need to have Cathy on side once again reared up and she was being less than co-operative about the subject.

"You said you don't need me to help you out," she pointed out icily. "What's so special about Mr. Kennedy when you're The Brian Kendrick?"

She could see the look in his eyes – trying to twist out an answer to the question he wanted her not to have asked.

"It's not that I don't need you," he began slowly, picking his words very carefully. "I mean, I don't need you in the ring, but I do need you to be there with me," he tried, changing tack to smooth talk, "I want you to be involved in what I do – after all, what's the fun in just walking to the ring and back again? Don't you want to be involved in my triumph?"

"It's nice when you win," Cathy conceded. "But if I have to hurt someone for it to happen, I don't feel good about that."

Brian grabbed the opening and gently wrapped his arm around her. "Babe, I know you're a gentle flower. But wrestling is a rough business and sometimes you've just got to roll with it." He tilted her head so she was looking up at his face. "These guys, they go out into the ring all the time and get bumped much worse than anything you've ever done. You shouldn't worry about it – nobody else does."

"But it's not about what everybody else thinks," she persisted. "It's about what I think, and I don't like it."

Brian rested her head on his shoulder, holding her close to him and stroking her hair. "You don't have to like it," he told her softly. "You just have to do it."

* * *

Mr. Kennedy was waiting in the ring as Brian and his entourage approached the ring. The problem, Cathy mused as they walked down, was that if ever someone needed to be thumped for no particular reason, it was Mr. Kennedy, with his spiky, teenage-boy white-blond hair and egotistical, square-jawed fondness for his own name. The man seemed to exude annoying from every pore of his body, and the closer they came to the ring, the more she really wanted to slap him.

"Of all the nights to have a conscience…" she muttered as Brian slid into the ring. She watched him as he strutted around, his appearance the very epitome of confidence and success. He wore it like a mask, perhaps in the hope that if he did so enough, people would mistake it for his real face. And it was true – there was some resemblance between them, but the mask made light and shallow what was really opaque and complex. Cathy could see traces of the man she thought she'd met in his face, but the invisible mask cast a deep shadow over it.

The bell rang and Brian got straight to work. He had learned the lesson of the previous week and was not going to be blindsided this time. A succession of kicks won him an early advantage, but Kennedy was not going to be easily cowed and the match was far from over. Size and power were on his side, but Brian was faster and more agile and he used it to his advantage – there was no point risking prolonged mat wrestling with Kennedy before he was tired and beaten.

When the denouement came, both men were feeling the burn. But Brian pulled at every ounce of power his muscles could give and kicked Kennedy hard, head first, into the ring post. He pulled the referee round, ostensibly to complain about something Kennedy had done a moment before, but motioning urgently to Cathy, who was up on the steel steps, to do something to really keep Kennedy down. Cathy looked down at the man at her feet, holding his head in his hands, muttering profanities under his breath, twisting and turning, and thought of how much satisfaction she would get from slamming her foot down on his fat muscled neck. And at that moment, making sure Brian's eyes were firmly fixed on her, she descended the steps and turned away. As she walked towards the entrance she could just hear Brian over the roar of the crowd, stamping his feet and screaming at her to get back and do her duty. Cathy turned at the top of the ramp, just in time to see Brian take one last hit from Kennedy before eating a Mic Check and the three count. Satisfied that she had done the right thing, she turned back towards the entrance and left.

* * *

She heard the running feet from half way down the corridor, but it still came as a slight surprise to be grabbed roughly by the arm and hauled round to look a furious Brian Kendrick in the eye.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" he shouted, glaring at her. "What happened to my glorious triumph?"

"Playing all your dirty tricks isn't a triumph," she spat back at him. "I said I didn't want to help you cheat to win, and I didn't. I don't have a problem with what happened out there tonight and neither should you." She tried to pull herself out of Brian's grip to leave, but he only held her tighter and pushed her against the wall.

"You think there isn't a problem?" he snarled. "That I can't trust you? That every time I go into that ring I have to worry about whether you're just going to leave me out to dry because you've got some sissy hang-up about helping me?"

"Hey, this isn't about me!" Cathy interrupted him. "If you can't win, then maybe you should spend more time training and less time checking yourself out in the mirror!"  
The slap not only stung, it sent her tumbling to the floor. Brian bent down and grabbed her roughly by the chin, forcing her to look into his face as the tears welled up in her eyes.

"Don't you ever talk to me like that again," he growled. "Just remember – **I** brought you here, and I can put you back just as easily." With that, he let go and stormed off noisily towards the locker room, sparing her not even a single backwards glance.

* * *

Jeff Hardy was making his way through the backstage area when he heard the sound of muffled sobs coming from behind a stack of crates. Pushing an errant strand of purple hair away from his face, he stopped to see what the matter was. Behind the crates, he saw a small brunette in a short black dress with her head buried deep in her hands. He reached out and cautiously touched her on the shoulder.

"Hey, are you okay?" She looked up and he recognised the tear-stained little face. "It's Cathy, right?" She nodded. "Did you hurt yourself? Do you want me to go find Brian?"

"No!" The emphatic declaration was followed by a tear-choked cough. "I mean, I'm fine, I'm really fine…"

Jeff sat down beside her. "To be honest, you don't look fine," he told her gently. "You look like you could use a friend."

Cathy made a half-hearted attempt to wave him away, her head still turned to the wall. But when Jeff stayed firmly where he was seated, she gave in and they sat there in silence. Jeff kept his eyes firmly fixed on the opposite wall. He could just see Cathy out of the corner of his eye. She was making a pretty good attempt at pretending she hadn't been crying – trying to breathe deeply and pressing cold fingertips to her eyes, but something was eating her up inside because every so often, another tear would escape and she would brush it away with a sharp, angry movement.

Eventually, he broke the silence. "Are you sure you don't want one of the paramedics to have a look at you, or something?"

She tried unconvincingly to laugh it off. "No, I'm okay, really." That seemed to be as much as she would say, but after a small pause, she continued, "Brian got really angry because I didn't help him in his match tonight and afterwards…" She trailed off slightly. "I just fell over… tripped, that's all." The euphemism was so obvious it wasn't even worth challenging.

Jeff put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a very gentle hug, whispering the words "It's okay," and let her rest her head on his shoulder. They sat there, not moving, not speaking, for quite some time. Eventually, when it seemed to Jeff like Cathy had calmed down, he slowly stood up and offered her his hand.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride back to the hotel."

* * *

Cathy hadn't intended to talk as they drove back to the hotel, but in the gentle silence she found herself giving vent to feelings and frustrations that had been so well suppressed she'd barely noticed them accumulate. Jeff listened, not questioning, not judging, just driving. By the time they reached the hotel, Cathy was feeling, if not happy, at least somewhat more settled than earlier in the evening. Jeff smiled at her, gave her a brief hug and then left without saying a word.

However, the atmosphere with Brian was cold as ice. He was still seething from earlier, on top of which, he'd discovered that she'd taken a lift from someone else – never mind that he was the one who'd left without her… Cathy didn't manage to get a single word out of him for the rest of the night, which was somewhat exasperating, although she did slightly admire his determination to make his petulant point. He had to break his silence in the morning, as it was either that or have to order his own breakfast, but the chilly atmosphere remained. The tension was palpable, simmering and rumbling under the surface of everything they did together, yet never quite boiling over into a scene. It was a situation that, sooner or later, was going to explode.

* * *

Somehow they made it to the next show without confrontation. Cathy came to the show, but hovered around nervously, not really sure what was going to happen. The atmosphere was tense and she really wished she could just disappear somewhere else for a while. She quite wanted to go and find out what Jeff was up to, as she hadn't had much of an opportunity to talk to him during the week since they were in North Carolina and he'd taken the opportunity to stay with his family. But she was walking on eggshells with Brian and didn't dare leave his sights for a moment. A part of her was telling her quite clearly that she was being silly, that travelling with Brian wasn't worth being reduced to a spineless, quivering wreck for, and Cathy knew that was true. Nevertheless, she did like it, and it was best not to pick a fight over nothing if some peace could be salvaged.

She followed Brian and Ezekiel cautiously as they headed towards the entrance to the ring. She wasn't sure what was expected, whether Brian even wanted her there, but he strode on in silence and so she went along too. As they stood just behind the entrance, waiting for Carlito's music to finish, he finally turned to her.

"Listen," he told her shortly. "You can come with me and do what you're told. But if you're not going to help, then don't bother coming to the ring at all." With that, his music started, and he and Ezekiel made their way out. Cathy was half way out the entrance before she really registered what had been said. The words "do what you're told" hammered at her pride and going down to the ring would be nothing short of sacrificing her dignity as an independent human being. She had really enjoyed the last couple of months, but if she didn't put her foot down now, the person she knew as Cathy Kaye would be long dead by the time it was over. She stopped in the entrance way and whispered to herself, "This far and no further."

Brian didn't even notice she wasn't following him until he climbed into the ring and saw her still at the entrance. Cathy could tell it hadn't even crossed his mind that she might not come with him. The moment he realised what was going on, Brian was at the ropes screaming blue murder towards her, but Carlito was already in the ring and the bell was rung. Carlito tried to grab him and at least get him to face the right direction to fight, but Brian lashed out and hit him in the face. He signalled to Ezekiel, who climbed in to deal with Carlito, drawing a DQ, and slid out of the ring and raced up towards the entrance.

* * *

Cathy got barely ten feet inside the backstage area before Brian grabbed her.

"What did I just say?" he growled. "What the hell was that?"

Cathy shoved him back, 'do what you're told' still ringing in her ears. "You said if I come to the ring, I have to play it your way. But I didn't, and that means I am not obliged to put up with your shit!"

"You're defying my wishes!" he screamed angrily. "I brought you here to be a part of my success – why the hell do you have to be so fucking awkward?"

"And what are you going to do about it?" she challenged him. "Hit me again? You can't come up with a good reason for being a bastard, so you'll just hit me until I break – is that it?"

"I made you," he snarled. "You were nothing before you met me, and now you have the ingratitude…"

"Before I met you," Cathy cut in, "I had self-respect. Maybe I didn't have a job, or anything other than thirty thousand dollars of student loan repayments to make, but at least I didn't beat people up just because some self-absorbed pretty boy didn't want to look bad in front of his friends!"

"Don't you dare talk about me like that!"

"I'll talk about you any way I want – if you don't want me to call you a vainglorious little coward, then maybe you shouldn't be one!"

Brian straightened up and changed tack. "I wanted you because I thought you'd be different from all the other women round here," he snapped spitefully. "But I guess I shouldn't have bothered, because you've got all the ego of a diva and none of the skill."

"So that's what you want, is it?" she demanded. "Some girl to flash her ass when you want it, and kick everyone else's ass when you can't be bothered? And what The Brian Kendrick wants, he always gets, right?" She heard someone moving behind her, spun round to see Natalya, and grabbed her by the arm.

"Hey you, you're a bitch, aren't you?" she asked sharply. Without waiting for a response, she pulled the surprised diva out towards the ring.

* * *

The ring was empty as Cathy stormed towards it, dragging Natalya behind her. The surprisingly quick end to the last match had left them unprepared, and the referee was still waiting in the ring when Cathy pushed Natalya towards the ring before climbing in herself. She signalled agitatedly towards the referee, demanding that he ring the bell which, with a look of abject confusion and disorientation, he did. Natalya stood there, completely confused as to what was going on. Cathy lunged forward and hit her in the jaw before trying to bring her down by kicking her in the back of the knee. That was all the provocation Natalya needed. With one strike she knocked Cathy to the mat before lifting her up and slamming her back down with a suplex. She rained down blow after blow on the helpless Cathy, then grabbed her legs and locked in a Sharpshooter. Cathy, her initial glow of blind rage utterly spent, squealed in pain but the moment to seek compassion from her opponent was long past. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the blinding agony, but all it did was help her focus on the pain as it tortured her back and threatened to choke her brain into unconsciousness.

And then suddenly the hold was broken and Cathy collapsed flat on the mat, thankful tears streaming down her face. Insofar as she was capable of stringing together a thought process, she was relieved that Brian had finally realised she ought to be taken seriously and put a stop to what she now easily recognised as a moment of utter lunacy. She felt a hand on her arm and forced her eyes open – and saw Jeff Hardy. Jeff had broken the hold, Jeff had forced Natalya from the ring, and Brian was nowhere to be seen. She reached out her arms and Jeff came to her, helping her to sit up and holding her gently as she hugged him with shaky emotional sobs.

"It's okay," he told her softly. "The danger's over now."

And that was when Brian finally made his appearance.

He came out with his music blaring, of course, but he strode purposefully towards the ring, his arm raised, pointing at the small figure of Cathy in the corner.

"That's mine!" he shouted as soon as he was certain of being within hearing range. "You can't have her!"

Jeff stood up slowly and turned to face the man outside the ring. "She's not yours," Jeff told him in a level, measured tone. "And you can't have her either."

"You stay out of this, Jeff," Brian snapped, circling his way round towards Cathy. He signalled to her. "Come on, babe, let's go."

Jeff mirrored his movements, keeping himself always between Brian and Cathy. "I said you can't have her."

Brian slid into the ring and tried to get closer to Cathy, but Jeff blocked him at every attempt. "Look, Jeff," Brian sneered, "She's coming with me. You got your fifteen seconds in the spotlight to play the hero, now why don't you just run off backstage and go write some poetry or whatever it is you do, and leave this to a real man?"

Jeff stepped up and glared straight into Brian's eyes. "I'm not leaving her alone with you," he growled, a trace of menace invading his voice. "I know what you did to her last week."

For a brief second there was a flicker of uncertainty in Brian's eyes. But he shrugged it off and replaced it with steel. "That's none of your business, Hardy. She's mine, and what we do together is nothing to do with you."

"You don't deserve her." Jeff spotted his brother Matt appearing at the top of the ramp. When he saw the confrontation going on in the ring, he hurried towards them and went to help Cathy, who was still sitting painfully behind them. "You've done nothing but treat her like crap ever since she got here, and until a few weeks ago she did nothing but take it because she thought your better side was worth waiting for!" The emotion was rising in his voice and he advanced on Brian, stretching up to make the most of his extra five inches of height. "All she wanted was for some of the respect she gave you to be given back, and you couldn't even do that for her! She can't wrestle but she came down here tonight to try and force you to respect her – and the only reason you're here now is because I got here first!" He glanced behind and saw that Matt had helped Cathy out of the ring, and in her place had put a folded steel chair. He stepped back and looked at Brian disdainfully. "You don't have one shred of feeling in your miserable little soul worthy of a human being," he told him contemptuously, "And if you dare to come within a hundred feet of Cathy without apologising for the nasty, shallow way you've been treating her, then I will not rest until I've done everything in my power to make you truly sorry."

With that, he leapt back, grabbed the steel chair and in one fluid movement, brought it crashing down against the skull of Brian Kendrick. Then, dropping the chair, he rolled out of the ring and, together with his brother, helped the still shaken Cathy back up the ramp, as Brian lay completely unconscious in the ring.


	3. Chapter 3

Matt and Jeff agreed that the best course of action would be to get Cathy away from the arena and out of any potential conflict as soon as possible. There was no point in going back to the hotel – Brian had the key to the room and it would be the first place he'd look – so their best option was to make the two hour drive through the clear moonlit night back to Cameron and plan the next move from the safety of Matt's kitchen. Cathy sat in the back of the car, staring almost blankly out the window as the landscape sped by. What little conversation there was mostly passed between Jeff and Matt, but the journey largely passed in a nervous, uncertain silence. On arriving at Matt's house, Cathy was set up on a sofa bed with a thick duvet and a spare pair of Beth's pyjamas and encouraged to get some sleep. But after an initial sleepiness, Cathy lay there mostly awake, trying to make sense of everything that had happened that night. It seemed weird, almost fantastical, as if at any moment she might expect to be joined by unicorns, trolls and a chorus of talking trees, that she had left Brian, left the chaos of his life and the pressure of being only what he wanted her to be. Even with all the tension of the past week she hadn't really pictured anything other than going out with Brian after the show, or lying in the hotel bed listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing as he slept off the night's exertions. It has never crossed her mind that there would be no 'Brian and Cathy' anymore, but although it seemed strange she was glad of it. She was away from it all, away from the nervous tension and the heavy weight of expectation. She was her own master once more – Jeff and Matt would not try to force her into any course of action and whatever else Brian might try to do, she had broken his hold over her. Although it seemed only half real to her, lying there on the strange sofa in someone else's clothes, she was free.

*

Realising that sleep was not going to come soon, Cathy pulled herself out of the bed and padded softly towards the kitchen. Even though nearly three hours had passed since they had arrived, the light and a soft murmur of voices still reached her from the inside of the kitchen. Pushing the door open, she saw Matt and Jeff standing by the white kitchen counter, warm mugs in hand and a cell phone on the counter between them. A brief flurry of activity placed a mug of hot chocolate in her hand and they sat together in silence on the bar stool style chairs for a short time.

Finally, Jeff broke the silence. "We've been on the phone to some of the guys back at the hotel. Apparently Brian got real pissed off when he realised you'd skipped town – started raging and shouting and throwing your stuff out the window. They said he only calmed down when one of the doctors slipped him something to help him sleep."

"If he's been knocked out for the night and your stuff is out of his room, we'll be able to race back to the hotel and pick it up, if you want," Matt continued. Cathy shook her head at the suggestion.

"It's a nice idea, but it's just stuff," she told him resignedly. "Nothing in that hotel means that much to me anymore." They sat in silence for a bit longer. Cathy lost herself for a moment in the warmth of the cup in her hand, the sweet taste of the cocoa on her tongue, the gentle ticking of the kitchen clock, but at the same time she knew that the question lurking in the back of her mind could not remain unasked for very long. She brought her mind back into sharp focus and looked straight at the two Hardys. "So what happens now?"

The two brothers exchanged looks before Jeff spoke. "Well, I guess that depends on what you want – whether you want to stay or go." He paused, as if trying to assess her inclinations before continuing. "If you want out of all this, we can drive you to the airport and put you on the next plane back to your family. But if you want to stay," he glanced over at his brother again, seeking confirmation, "Then we'll do whatever we can to help put things right."

Cathy paused in thought. Standing at the entrance to the ring tonight she'd been so sure she was ready to leave. When the choice was between staying with Brian and going back home, she'd known exactly which choice she preferred. As much as she'd liked Brian before, she had now come to hate him and his arrogant, self-centred, cowardly ways. But upon reflection, she thought that perhaps she didn't want to leave before Brian had suffered, at least a little bit – and looking at Matt and Jeff, determined to help in a blaze of righteous indignation on her behalf, she realised there was a third option. Revenge.

* * *

Cathy spent the week laying low at Matt's house. The Hardy brothers had to get back on the road before then, doing public appearances and interviews and all the other things the WWE demanded of them, but they had agreed that Cathy should hang back this week while Brian's emotions were still likely to be running high. She did go out to replace her lost case of clothes, swapping the hated high heels and short tight dresses for a far more comfortable and understated ensemble. In addition, Matt has found time to modify a couple of pairs of trousers for her, so the overall effect was noticeably Hardy-esque with a definite touch of class. Even so, it was the first week she'd had in some months where she could simply kick back and relax as and when she pleased. Tension and stress she'd barely noticed building up drained out of her and it felt good.

Despite that, she still felt a firm twang of nervousness as she boarded the plane at the end of the week. Matt and Jeff had promised faithfully to meet her at the airport and stay with her as much as they could, but sooner or later she would see Brian. She wasn't worried that she would forget her rage and fall into his arms again or that, having been exposed, he would try to physically harm her, but the thought of seeing him again disturbed her nonetheless. Revenge was all very well, but relying on others to help deliver it left her vulnerable and she was sure Brian would try to pressure her to end it rather than take it up with Matt and Jeff if he could get away with it. She fidgeted in her seat as the plane prepared to take off, wondering if she'd really known what she was letting herself in for.

* * *

Brian stalked the halls moodily, in search of a decent cup of coffee to tide him over until the end of the show. It wasn't the lack of caffeine that was fuelling his foul temper, but it was as good an excuse as any to remind the backstage lackeys who was important around here. Neither was it the absence of the nightly ministrations to which he had become accustomed – there were more than enough impressionable young ladies hovering around the WWE to keep his bed warm at night – rather, it was anger at the defiance and arrogance that had seen his image publicly tarnished with no clear and visible way to restore it.

As he strode through the halls, he passed a pair of workers with clipboards. They gave him a wide berth but he still caught a snippet of their conversation as they passed:

"…insisted on having a whole separate room to hide away in – having all those Hardy signs in the crowd has definitely gone to their heads…"

He whirled round and grabbed the man who'd been speaking by the collar. "Hardy! What were you saying about Hardy?"

The other man gulped and looked visibly nervous, despite being taller than the man who was now almost crushing his windpipe. "Only that they got a separate room tonight…" he wheezed uncomfortably. "So they could have some privacy…"

"Where?" Brian demanded, pulling the man's head down to be just slightly lower than his own.

"The back corridor," he choked. "Third on the left…"

Brian released his hold at once and raced down the hall, rage burning in his eyes. They were trying to keep her from him, trying to stop him from taking back what was his. Well, if they wanted a trinket of their own to parade around they could go out and find one themselves. He'd seen Cathy first. She belonged to him.

*

Cathy paced the small room nervously as Jeff stood to leave for his match. It was plain and simply furnished, little more than a spare holding space, which left plenty of room for her to do so. One hand tugged nervously at her hair, the other reached out to hold Jeff by the wrist.

"Can't you wait till Matt gets back?" she pleaded, feet dancing nervously even as she spoke. So far the two brothers had made sure she was not left alone for a single minute and even though common sense told her she would be perfectly fine if left alone for a short time, her slightly irrational fear of being found was winning out. Jeff gently unclasped her hand and turned to face her.

"If I don't go now, I'll be late for my match," he told her gently. "I don't know what's keeping Matt, but he'll be here soon. We're both looking out for you, remember?" He opened the door and stepped out into the hall. "He won't be long," he reassured her. "You can lock the door if you're worried."

*

Brian turned the corner and saw Jeff standing at a door about half-way down the corridor, speaking to someone in the room beyond. She was in there, he knew it, being hidden away so that he couldn't reclaim her. A harsh scowl flashed across his face and as Jeff turned and began moving in his direction, he strode out into the corridor and lunged.

*

Cathy had barely put the key in the lock when she heard the rough smack of flesh hitting flesh and a crash as at least one body hit the floor. In a flash, she jammed the key round and the small lock slid into place. She leaned against the door, heart beating wildly, as she heard the sounds of fists lashed out in anger.

"I know you're hiding her!" Cathy froze at the sound of that voice. "Cathy!" The doorknob twisted fruitlessly. "Cathy, let's go – you're coming with me."

The door rattled as a body hit it and Cathy pressed all her weight against the door, praying silently and desperately that the insubstantial lock would hold. She wasn't ready to face Brian. Not tonight.

*

Brian barged shoulder first into the door and felt it give, just a little. He stepped back to try again, but Jeff pulled his feet out from under him and then kicked out at his shoulder, knocking him sideways. Pushing himself up, in one swift strike Brian planted his foot firmly in the side of Jeff's head, knocking him to the floor once more. With the other man down again, Brian slid over to the door.

"Just you and me again, babe," She could hear the slightly menacing tone of his voice, even through the door. "Your hero's taking a nap just over there, so you might as well come out here." Cathy's hand trembled on the doorknob as she tried to keep the door shut tight. She looked cautiously for something that could be used as a wedge, keeping her foot firmly against the door, anything to prevent her from trying to speak to Brian. There would only be shouting or crying and either way it would do no good.

"Don't you want to see me, babe?" he growled softly through the tightly shut door. "I bought a sexy new dress for you to wear – dark red velvet, a good tight fit; it'll cling to your ass like…" Suddenly there was a thump and the door rattled heavily.

*

Brian snarled as he leapt back onto his feet, face to face with a slightly out of breath Matt.

"I told you two to stay out of this," he snarled, trying to keep his eyes on both Matt and Jeff, who was pulling himself to his feet over on his right. "Now if you just give her back, I'm willing to forget this ever happened."

He had been expecting the two-pronged assault that followed, but there was too little room in the corridor to do much about it other than dodge and counter. A few wild slashes hit home but there was no space to press home an advantage. This was a ridiculous place to fight; they must have chosen it to trap him. He fought on nonetheless – these thieves had stolen Cathy from him, and he meant to make them regret it.

And then, in a confusion of sound and limbs, it was over, with numerous backstage security men trying to pry them all apart and someone screaming at Jeff for holding up the show for the sake of a petty brawl, ordering him to be escorted to his match at once, and then he was fighting off strong arms directing himself and Matt to the General Manager's office. Brian threw a murderous stare at the two departing Hardys, but then straightened himself up and allowed himself to be guided to the office, arrogant swagger returned to his step. Granted, he had not been able to retrieve Cathy, but neither Matt nor Jeff had her for their own either, and that would do for now. If she was not his ornament, at least she was not being anyone else's. Only he should be allowed to possess her, and he would again, soon enough.

*

The corridor quietened down. The footfalls of the security men faded away to nothing as they escorted the three wrestlers away from the area. The backstage staff scurried back to their duties elsewhere, and the disgruntled GM growled and stalked away. Within minutes there was no sign that anything out of the ordinary had taken place in this corridor that looked just like all the others in the building. The only sound was that of deep, choking sobs that came from the other side of the locked door.


	4. Chapter 4

The GM's decree was, of course, that if Brian and Jeff were going to insist on fighting each other, they should do it in the ring where everyone could see instead of sniping at each other backstage and disrupting the show. This next confrontation occupied the minds of both Hardys and Cathy as they made their way back to the hotel that night. Although the match-up did help solve the problem of guarding Cathy during the show, it also added to it because Brian would know for certain that they were somewhere in the building.

Cathy was sitting on the edge of her hotel bed in her dark cotton pyjamas, eyes staring off into the distance but seeing nothing, when Jeff came in and sat beside her.

"I'm sorry I wussed out tonight," Cathy apologised after a short silence. Jeff put his arms round her shoulders and squeezed her softly.

"Hey, it's no big deal," he told her gently. "It's been a tough week on you, that's all."

Cathy shook her head and shifted her gaze down to her slippers. "I thought I was prepared for it… that I was ready to face him, if I had to." She twisted her feet round each other until they would bend no further. "I messed it all up…"

Jeff untwisted her feet and pulled her round on the bed so that she was facing him. The faintest hint of tears had risen in the corners of her eyes and she looked so very tired. He grasped her hands in his own and waited until her deep brown eyes focused on his own.

"It's not your fault," he said firmly. "You might be deeply entwined in these events and how it all goes, but this isn't your fault and you can't shoulder the blame for not being ready to fight." He paused, hoping she was taking the message in. "Tonight was just one of those things that happens too soon, happens before you can prepare. But now it has happened you know what to expect and next time you'll be ready."

She smiled softly and her eyes flicked up to meet his, but quickly dropped back down to an inward gaze. "It all seemed like such a good idea at the time," she confessed, squeezing his hands as she thought. "To come along, to support him, to make him happy; and then to leave and pay him back – every time I had to choose, it felt like I was doing the right thing." She looked into his eyes and Jeff felt the full force of the sad, confused and conflicted face that met his. "So why does it seem like everything turned out so wrong?"

Jeff pulled her close and hugged her as a spasm of shaky, not-crying rolled through her small body. "Not everything turned out wrong," he whispered gently, stroking her long soft hair as it fell over her face. "You've got me, and Matt. And no matter what Brian does, we'll look out for you until you say otherwise. That's not wrong, is it?" Cathy shook her head and then slowly pulled herself back till she was sitting up straight again. She smiled the faintly embarrassed smile of one having been caught being silly about things, and took Jeff's hand once more.

"Thank you," she told him softly. "For everything. Thank you."

Jeff smiled affectionately. "That's okay," he replied as he stood up. "We'll find a way to set things right. But we won't do it a moment sooner by losing sleep over it." They murmured good nights to each other as he made his way to the door. Cathy snuggled under the blankets to try and find the peace of a deep sleep and the room ceased to be lit by anything more than the faint glow of the moon and the stars coming from the darkness beyond.

* * *

Jeff walked through the backstage area, psyching himself up for the match he would be called to in a matter of minutes. As he walked, he tried to clear his head of the maelstrom of emotions crowding around for the uppermost position in his thoughts. Those concerning the physical ordeal he was about to undergo were easily dismissed as no more than the background noise of his career – important, but not worth significant attention. Similarly, his plans for the match could be shifted to one side – he knew the moves he could do and every combination so well that he could easily do them in his sleep. What could not be shifted, however, was the anger he felt when he considered his opponent tonight. Jeff had not really spent any time with Cathy until recently, but he was able to recall a gentle, bright, vivacious young woman appearing backstage, confident yet hanging on Brian's every word. When his thoughts changed from that image to the frightened and fragile creature he had taken from Brian's arms only two weeks ago, a cold rage swept over him, causing the idle chatter of his mind to cease without exception. It didn't come easily to him – Jeff had always been more inclined to trust and believe the best of people, but once his ire had been raised it was a true raging storm, a deep, howling anger that the world was not as good as it could so easily be. It would have been so simple for Brian to be nice to Cathy, to look after her and make her happy, and he had refused to do it. Beating Brian into submission would not right that wrong, but at least justice would be seen to have been done.

*

Brian scowled heavily as he stood backstage, waiting for his match to begin. He was ready to fight Hardy – he'd beaten him before and he could do it again – but the indignity of having to fight him in public in order to retrieve Cathy grated on him. Bringing the fight into the ring almost legitimised Jeff's possession of her by obliging him to win her back rather than just taking her. Jeff must have planned it this way – he would know that if Cathy was allowed to see him she would return to his side in an instant, so he was doing this to force her to stay. That was it – it had to be. Why else would she have stayed away from him for so long?

Brian paced the area irritably. By rights, he should be the US Champion by now – would have been if Cathy had not gotten all self-righteous and prudish about doing her part, that night of all nights. She'd been so good about it before; for a smile and a kiss she would do whatever was necessary. When she came back he was going to make damn sure she knew what was expected of her, at all times, not just when it suited her. He wanted sexy but submissive, and that was exactly what he was going to get.

His posture stiffened as he saw Jeff approaching, alone. He'd guessed Jeff wouldn't risk letting Cathy come anywhere near him tonight but the slightest fleeting feeling of disappointment flashed through him as he saw him on his own. He dismissed it quickly – it would have been good for Cathy to be here to see her guardian utterly defeated and prostrated at his feet, but she would learn her lesson soon enough anyway. He would have plenty of time to find her and teach it to her after he'd beaten Jeff senseless. He eyed the tall lean man contemptuously, with his stupid arm bands and ridiculous multi-hued hair – how could he possibly think Cathy would rather be seen with him than with The Brian Kendrick? Giving him a hard kick to the head would be doing everyone a favour. Stretching in a seemingly careless way, he began moving surreptitiously closer to the entrance to the main arena.

*

Jeff approached carefully, maintaining a respectable distance between himself and Brian as he took up his position to wait for the start of their match. The other man had a cold, arrogant air about him, emphasised as he tossed his head this way and that like a bull, refusing to meet Jeff's steady gaze. His face was still not troubled by a single iota of remorse, not a single shred of concern for Cathy, or anyone apart from himself. Jeff shifted awkwardly. It was taking a supreme amount of effort not to go over there that instant and hit him hard. Breathing heavily, he hauled in his anger. The GM had been very clear that any fighting not taking place in the ring would be deeply frowned upon and he didn't need any more trouble with the management. He could wait just a few more minutes before striking down that odious, sneering countenance.

The wrestlers in the previous match appeared from the main arena and briefly acknowledged the two waiting men before heading back to the locker rooms. As one of the crew gave a one minute warning for Brian's entrance, he turned and for the first time looked Jeff straight in the eye.

"You've still got time to give her back," he told him in what could have been a throw-away manner, if not for the harsh, piercing glare that accompanied it.

Jeff stretched up to his full height and a brief mocking laugh passed his lips. "Even if I did, she wouldn't go with you." He paused, watching the red mist descend on Brian. "She can't stand the sight of you, or she'd be here now to watch you suffer."

"Liar!" The word burst forth in a heavy growl as he closed the gap between them, eyes blazing angrily. "You're just jealous," he suggested in a calmer, but still enraged, tone.

"Jealous?" Jeff scoffed openly. "She won't see you, she won't talk to you – she can't abide even the thought of you – and you think I'm jealous of that?"

Brian recoiled almost imperceptibly. "You can't have her," he snarled. "No matter what you do, she'll come back to me. She knows who she belongs to."

"Cathy belongs to herself," Jeff replied sharply. "If you had half the brains you claim to, you would have figured that out by now."

"And if _you_ had half the brains you think you have," Brian retorted fiercely, "You'd have given up when you had the chance. I'm going to rip Cathy from your grasp and the longer you try to hold on, the worse it'll be for you." And with that, he turned and stalked off to the main arena. Jeff shook his head as he watched Brian parade out to his music. Then he pushed his hair back from his face to reveal a poisonous black stare and stepped forward to follow him into the arena.

* * *

Brian had thought he was angry last week. But that left almost no suitable adjectives to describe his temper now. Here he was one week later, warming up to face Jeff Hardy _again_ after their match last week had yielded an absolute travesty of a result – pinned to the mat after barely ten minutes. Brian raged and swore as he recalled it. He'd been, well, he'd been great, the same as he always was, because he was The Brian Kendrick. But Jeff had been leaping about on the turnbuckles, bouncing off the ropes, always managing to be in exactly the wrong place at the wrong time to steal hits in the one second he was vulnerable. It was nothing to do with his speed and agility – he could match Jeff leap for leap if he wanted to – it was just infernal _luck_, and what must have been the fastest possible three-count in existence. He growled in frustration as he remembered Jeff's smug, self-satisfied grin as he pulled himself up at the end of the match:_ "You've still got time to apologise,"_ he'd taunted, trying to be smart, but Brian had just glared at him as he slowly struggled to his feet. And then they'd spirited themselves away afterwards so Cathy remained firmly in their clutches. He'd tried complaining about the result, of course, but five solid minutes spent trying to shout some sense into the GM's head had only resulted in another match for the two of them being scheduled for the next week's show. He grimaced as he considered the situation. It was hard to believe that Jeff Hardy was getting away with stealing from him, taking his property when he had no right to. And Cathy _was_ his – he'd picked her up, invested the time and money in making her look good and provided her with a stage on which to shine – and now someone else thought they could reap the benefits of his hard work? Outrageous. She was part of _his_ successful image and he would part with her when he was ready. And not before.

*

Matt and Cathy sat quietly in the little room they'd found, hidden away from the main action. Jeff had just departed for his match against Brian, full of confidence after a fairly resounding victory over him the week before, and that confidence was slowly spreading to Cathy. She'd managed to avoid Brian since the incident in the hall two weeks previously and Jeff's win over him in the ring the week after had helped restore her to a slightly more normal level of good humour. All the fears that came in the night about the WWE becoming one endless nerve-wracking, soul-destroying hell after leaving Brian seemed to have dissipated, or at least faded into the background. Today Cathy could almost say she felt… maybe happy was too strong a word just now, but definitely very positive.

"He's got to be in the ring by now," she considered out loud, not needing to explain which 'he' she was referring to. There was no chance of running into him outside and although the room was safe, her increasing confidence meant it was starting to feel confining. "Maybe we could go for a quick walk to stretch our legs?"

Matt pulled himself out of his chair. Though he wouldn't say, or give any indication of it, sitting still was not his forte. Even though he'd already had a match that night, he appreciated the chance to get up and do something.

"OK," he replied. "But eyes open for trouble, right?"

*

It had been a while since Cathy had felt able to stroll the halls with impunity. Granted she had never been in these halls before, but after some months with the WWE she had noticed that one set of corridors at an arena looked very much like another, so in the grand scheme of things they might as well be the same halls, and they held no fear for her. She kept a careful eye on her watch all the same though – the feeling was good, but it was finite and would run out at precisely the moment Jeff and Brian finished their match. But for now, it was enough to be able to walk freely without being afraid.

She'd walked deliberately towards the main centres of activity, those being where she would not tread when Brian was on the loose, but as she continued walking she realised that she was almost upon the entrance to the arena. She hadn't intended to come quite this far or this close, but a swift glance at the now numerous monitors fitted into the pale walls showed her that Brian and Jeff were still locked together in combat, that she was still safe, for now. Seeing the relentless back-and-forth between the two men on the monitor, she circled the area curiously, wondering if there was a point from which she could see Brian and Jeff physically in the ring whilst remaining completely hidden from view. There ought to be one, for the technicians and the runners and such, just hidden before the entrance where she could take a look. In the back of her mind she knew that she was acting in a massively risky fashion, but she ignored it. There must be a place. One little glimpse wouldn't hurt…

*

Brian staggered back, grasping at the ropes for support. Jeff followed swiftly, kicking him firmly into the ring post then lashing out with his fists. The referee pulled him back after the initial flurry, giving Brian room to pull himself to his feet and reassess the situation. It was only for a moment; as soon as the referee stepped out of the way, Jeff launched himself shoulder first into Brian's upper body, sandwiching it hard between him and the ring post. Brian dropped awkwardly to the mat, gasping to regain the breath that had been squeezed out of him. Jeff stepped back as if to strike with his foot, but instead he leaned forward and, with his hand firmly on Brian's throat, pushed his head back against the post.

"Ready to give it up yet?" he snarled almost contemptuously. Brian gracelessly pulled his leg forward and by way of a response kicked Jeff hard so that he stumbled back towards the middle of the ring. He pulled himself up and, not having the ready energy to launch a high kick at his head, leapt forward and struck Jeff in the back of his knee. Jeff's leg buckled beneath him and in that brief second of opportunity Brian delivered a second kick to his back that was just enough to knock Jeff onto his front. He tried to pull Jeff into a Camel Clutch, but he wasn't worn down enough yet and hauled himself out of it with some effort. Brian tried to regain his brief advantage with another kick, but Jeff twisted out of the way. He growled as they faced each other across the ring again.

"Is that all you got?" he shouted, gesturing mockingly. It was enough to trouble him, but he wasn't going to let Hardy know that. The appearance of strength and vitality was almost as good as having some left – if Hardy thought he was still a threat, he wouldn't try anything big. Brian knew he could still beat him. All it would take was one open shot.

*

Cathy watched from the edge of the entrance. This close she could feel the buzz from the audience, hear the slam of feet and bodies in the ring and, most importantly, for the first time in nearly a month she could see _him_. And strangely enough, she didn't feel afraid.

His face was screwed up in frustration, but was mostly hidden by the waves of blond hair falling forward over it. He moved lithely as he and Jeff made their smooth assaults like a dangerous dance through the ring. She couldn't see his eyes clearly from this distance, but she would have bet any money that they were burning with the black heat of wrath. He was handsome, she would still concede that, but that was firmly overridden by the fact that he was also a self-centred, arrogant, hateful jerk and she could see it poisoning his face. She almost envied Jeff his opportunity to hit Brian – she would, to pay him back for his deceit and callous treatment of her, if only she had the strength to give him more than a black eye at best. But Jeff was landing strike after strike on Brian entirely on her behalf and Cathy had to admit that was a pretty good second best. She shifted, trying to get a better view so that she could see each blow connect and watch him reel from it. There had to be a place to see it all…

*

Brian stood, panting and sore, but still standing. Maybe he wasn't going to overpower Hardy tonight, but he could still outlast him. Sooner or later, Hardy would make a mistake.

Most of his moves now were defensive, countering where he could, rolling with Hardy's movements where he couldn't in an effort to minimise the effect. As the pace of the match slowed, with both men starting to feel the burn, he was able to land one or two offensive moves on Hardy but the kind of sustained attack that could win the match remained elusive.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a figure standing at the edge of the entrance way. Her figure was hidden under a pair of baggy black trousers and an open white shirt over a tank top, her face half obscured by loose hanging auburn hair, but he knew it was _her_. He turned his head towards her and he felt their eyes lock across the arena. She didn't run or turn away, but matched him stare for stare, seemingly more self-possessed than she had been for some time. Had she come out there to taunt him? Was she expecting to see him beg for forgiveness for whatever it was he was supposed to have done? If her confidence was in her guardian, he could make sure that at least was short-lived.

He snuck a glance and saw that Jeff too had been distracted by Cathy's appearance at the entrance. Summoning almost the last of his strength, he jumped and his foot connected sharply with the back of Jeff's skull, knocking him heavily to the mat. He hauled the dazed man back onto his feet and launched himself at the ropes, slamming him back into the mat with his trademark finisher. The moment the three count was completed and the bell rung, he leapt to his feet and turned to face Cathy, who was still standing there at the top of the ramp. He met her gaze once more and nonchalantly gestured at the prone form of Jeff Hardy behind him. Outwardly, neither her face nor her bearing had changed in the slightest, but as he stepped forward to the edge of the ring, towards where she was standing, she turned and fled. A satisfied smirk crossed Brian's face as he took a last glance back at his vanquished opponent still on his back on the mat. Then, slowly and a little stiffly, he lowered himself out of the ring and made his way back up the ramp, buoyantly in the mood to deal with the other half of his little problem.


End file.
